Magick

Janet was a nice girl. She wasn't particularly smart, or pretty, or good at anything, but she was nice. She worked as a secretary at a small office in a large city. She lived alone with her cat, her bird, and a tank of tropical fish. She hadn't had a date in months and felt inadequate.

She had gone to see the Gypsy. The colorful woman always seemed to be laughing at something. But she hadn't laughed last night. She had gotten serious when she dealt out the Tarot cards and scanned them.

"This is bad," she said. "Very bad. Very bad."

"But there are none of the bad cards showing," said Janet.

"Oh," said the Gypsy, "that's true. None of the really bad cards are here, tonight. But this one here… this one worries me. And it seems to be in a dominant position."

The Gypsy pointed to a card right in front of Janet. It was only the Five of Pentacles.

"What's so bad about that card?" asked Janet.

"It portends bad things," said the Gypsy. "Bad things. Bad things will happen to you. Soon. Really soon. Maybe even tonight. Or perhaps tomorrow. But bad things will happen in your life."

"Each time I visit with you, Goddess, your presence renews my faith in the land, in you and in your gifts to us." He paused, then added in ritual form, "What would you have of me, my lady?" He forced himself to look directly into her eyes. The black of her pupils reflected the many multitudes of stars overhead.

"I would have your best ministrations, prince of my realm."

Peter grinned. Sometimes the Goddess asked for only a gentle touch, a caress. Tonight she seemed to want all of him. Jocasta shivered, pretty goose flesh rising on her arms. "I'm honored to give you pleasure, Lady." Jocasta once again entwined her hands in his hair and grasped tightly, forcing a gasp from his lips. On strong arms, he pushed himself down over her body, blowing air over her exposed flesh and reveling in the little movements of her reaction.

Faced with her womanhood, he grasped her thighs, one in each hand, and pushed them apart. The milky flesh of her legs quivered as she drew her legs apart, allowing him to access her most secret places. Desire pounded through his body and thrummed in his head, blinding him to all but what lay before him. Lost in passion, he began his worship with a sigh of happiness.

“The Kahmudjan envoys arrive this afternoon, your grace,” Casmin reminded her, his tone serious. “Will you receive them?”

She shrugged. “I will, though I wish I knew why they were coming.”

His voice tightened with concern. “In Tilanta, it is said that the Kahmujans preached the burning of the temple. In other places too, they have led the attacks upon your priestesses.”

“I know,” Adita acknowledged. She stroked his arm with her fingers, trying to will him to relax. “But we cannot turn their envoy away. We have an army here, Casmin, should we need it.”

“Do you trust them?” He asked pointedly.

She held silent for a few steps. “They do not have to be our enemies. They are not unbelievers. They do not deny Zenthe’s existence, or her power. It is her role in the cycle of life that we disagree on.”

“You didn’t answer my question,” he prodded.

She sighed. “Trust them? No, I don’t trust them.”

The comfort she had taken, from the sun, from her own touch, from the warmth of Casmin’s muscled arm faded into worry. The Kahmudjan sect was only one of a dozen concerns that darkened the world. Foremost among the burdens she carried was the absence of any would-be suitors.

The land suffered for the goddess’ frustration.

Within the temple, Adita heard the whispers and sensed the power of her command faltering. Even at the mountain’s rim, there were new beliefs and whispered heresies. Some of the priestesses pursued rites that were darker than the goddess’ customary practices, and even some of the grand orgies had taken on a desperate cast.

She wondered if the Kahmudjans might offer a kind of hope, that their visit might be an excuse for a revival of Zenthe’s core faith.

“But we will greet them as we would other guests,” she told him. “Such is my will.”

A rasp of disapproval framed Casmin’s reply. “They do not respect Zenthe or our ways. They’d as soon see you in chains as negotiate with you.”

Adita grinned, a tickle of rebellion reminding her of days long past. “Now there’s an idea. Chains might be fun.”

He turned to her, his gaze as serious as his frown. “Those are not the kind of chains I mean, your grace.”

She elbowed him gently. “Oh, lighten up. And trust me. If I thought a rousing bout of bondage games would help relax the Kahmudjans and make them more reasonable, I’d tie them up myself.”

He smiled uneasily, then chuckled and extended his stride to walk in front of her, up the path to the back gate of the temple. With a surety born of repetition, he unlatched the gate and held it open for her.

She stepped through and turned back to regard him with a look of gratitude and warmth, before allowing herself the pleasure of stroking the hard lines of his chest.

“I will greet them, Casmin, and make them welcome, but stay near me this evening. Remember always how much I need you.” Then she kissed him lightly upon the lips and walked alone into the temple of the goddess.

Reaching the baths was a relief, and as usual, there was no one in them. Hot springs provided a constantly circulating supply of water at varying temperatures depending on where the pool had been dug. She put a chipper note into her voice, "Well, I will be over there in the tepid section, feel free to call me when you are done." It was standard for men to start at the hot pools and work their way over to the lower temperatures. Days when her back ached from bending over patients she longed for that hot water, but the burns that she healed made her ridiculously sensitive to high temperatures. So, tepid it was.

"You have healed burns?"

"Yes."

"Ah. I will accompany you then. With your injuries, you may not be able to reach your back."

Oh crap. He was set on joining her. This was going to be an exercise in self-control. His cloak fell to the floor and he stepped into the water, lowering his body below the ogling point. Damn. Well, he had already seen the worst.

Layer by layer, she shucked her robes, her veil hitting the floor last. Naked as the day she was born, but patchy as a quilt, she stepped into the water. It was too much to hope that he hadn't watched her. "Why are you so interested in looking? Most look away."

"I studied at the Citadel when I was younger. Learning the ways of the healers was part of the course. Grafting healers are rare, are they not?"

"Relatively, yes. We are hard to spot. You have to look at the people around them and, if you locate a completely healthy hub in the middle of an outbreak, you probably have a graft healer in there."

"Ah. Interesting."

Evah believed him. He was far too frank to engage in subterfuge. She was blushing, she couldn't help it. He was looking at her now as if she was a woman, not a mass of damage. It was more than she was used to.

He apparently sensed as much. "You are not used to attention. Especially from males." He seemed pleased by it.

To stall for time, she grabbed some soap and began to work up a good lather. "No. I am not used to attention from males. It doesn't happen often." He had drifted toward her while she was speaking and she squeaked as he grabbed her soap and pressed her against his chest while he rubbed the soap in slow circles over her back. His hands were sure and deliberate, learning each and every bit of her before moving on to the next. She was humming with arousal by the time he finished her back and let her rinse, of course, being plastered against his fabulous chest and his sturdy erection may have had something to do with it.

She kept her eyes down, which was an effort when he rubbed the soap across her breasts and belly, under her arms and between her thighs. That one touch put her over the edge, rocking her into a gasping orgasm that shook her until she was clinging to Radal limply. He was looking pleased but surprised. "I am so sorry about that. It has just been a while." She laughed weakly. "A long while."

He backed them up and sat on one of the stone benches carved in the side of the pool, pulling her in to sit between his thighs. Her back was against his chest and the heated bar of his arousal was obvious in the lukewarm temperature of the bath. He tugged at her scalp and Evah came to the realization that he was unbraiding her hair.

"I have been wondering how long this was since you first lay on me during the healing."

"Oh. You were awake for that?" A fat lock of chestnut hair fell over her right shoulder and draped over her breast.

"I was in a great deal of pain, but I was conscious. Your hair has many colours in it."

She could feel the silky strands flowing down her back, and when he had all eight braids unwound, he slid his fingers through her hair, combing it.

"Brown, red, gold, it matches your eyes. Why do you keep it bound?"

"It gets in the way during healing. It slithers out of my veil and sticks to open wounds." The repetitive stroking of his fingers through her hair had her in very relaxed state.

"That makes sense, I suppose. It is lovely though." He continued his ministrations.

She leaned completely against him, giving him full access to her if he wanted it, and giving herself a place to nap. She braced her hands on his thighs and did what she really wanted to do--

"If they mentioned exotics, it makes sense. We fetch a higher price than those classified as altered."

"Altered?"

"People who no longer meet their species specifications through medical or mechanical alterations."

"Ah. Does this happen to you often?"

She grinned and stroked his hair out of his eyes. "To me? No. To Terrans, far more frequently than it should. The fact that they will be given death sentences if we are found under ownership does not even slow many of the pirates down."

Taneus nodded wisely. "I can understand it. You are very desirable."

"Um. Thank you. I think. Could you get off my lap now?" She squirmed a little and he finally released her hips to push himself upright. She was right about his height, he was about a foot taller than she would be standing.

"Reluctantly, I will bow to your comfort." His red eyes sparkled in amusement and he took a long look at her seated on the cot, then moved in a blur. By the time the room had stopped spinning around her, his hard thighs cushioned hers and she was leaning against his broad chest. "There. This is better."

"If you say so. The edges of the cot must be digging into you."

"But the soft surface above is well worth the discomfort." He wrapped one of his hands around her thigh and pulled her snuggly against him.  He was definitely enjoying the contact if the ridge under her hip was any indication. "You are mine, you know."

"So you said. Something about Admar?"

"You are aware of the Admaryn project?"

"In passing. I have read a few articles on it. Your planet was peppered with volunteers. Sleepers, those who were willing to dilute their bloodline by mixing it with Terra's."

The hand that he was absently rubbing her leg with was distracting. "This is true. It took a lot of weeding out to find men who would be appropriate for the cold sleep. And men who would welcome a Terran in their bed when they did come out of it."

A flare of irritation popped into her. "So you just wake up and they shove a woman at you? How convenient."

He chuckled. It was one of the greatest sounds she had ever heard in her life. The soft pulsing of his chest had her whole body trembling in unison. "Not so easy. We wake up when our match is nearby. I woke up six months ago, had Aissa bring me up to speed with the modern Alliance and then I went to find you."

"Just like that? You set out across the stars to find me because you think I am your destiny? Your match? Did your cryo pod freeze your brain?" She looked up at the strong line of his jaw. He was really quite beautiful, hypnotic if she was honest with herself. If the weavers on Bathi could capture his features in a tapestry, she would fade to nothing staring at it.

"I will always come to you, wherever you are. Our psyches match, we resonate on the same wavelength and when we make love, you will fit me perfectly." Those coal red eyes looked down at her with the same rapt attention that she was giving to him. Unbidden, she leaned up for his kiss and he met her halfway.

If she hadn't been wearing boots, her socks would have flown off. As it was, her toes curled as his lips took on a carnal purpose, teasing her mouth into responding and pouring a bolt of heat through her lips, deep into her belly. She felt the first fluttering of lust an instant before dampness followed. She was getting wet and they weren't even using tongue. Oh lord.

"Stop! You are not to be in this hold! How did you get down here?"  Two of the pirates were storming toward them. Distracted for the moment, Taneus pulled away from her, then grinned and stood, placing her precisely on the cot before facing the guard. "The males and females are not to mix."

One grabbed him by the arm and started hauling Taneus away. He half-turned to Dehlia and blew her a kiss before letting them drag him out. "Later, Dehlia."

She was left sitting alone on her cot with the audience of the rest of the women's hold staring at her. 

Dehlia sat back and touched her lips.

Their drive was quiet. The mountains and trees flew past the windows, the suspension of the car was so tuned that she felt like she was floating on air. Their drive could have lasted two hours or two days, all she knew was that when he pulled up in the rotunda of the home that was still under construction, she whistled in amazement.

She was home.

Her soul recognized the structure jutting from the stone as its resting place, a place of peace and introspection.

When she looked over at Zenner, she saw the same thing in his eyes. He knew that she belonged here. He had built this for her before they had met.

"Cordis Exitor. The soul's awakening. I named it the day that they first cut the earth to lay the foundation. Would you care to see inside?"

"I would love to. Please. Show me your soon-to-be home."

He held his elbow out to her and she took it, unsurprised as the doors to the house opened without his touch. The air was thick with magic up here. Fewer humans to dilute and waste the purity of the energy.

"Wow. The entry hall is amazing. Those staircases are hand carved? They look incredible."

"Everything here was done by hand. Few craftsmen around that will do it my way, but I pay very well."

"I imagine that you do. Where do you get your money? A huge pile of gold that you used to sleep on?" He was silent and she started to laugh. "Seriously? Wow. Stories about dragons are not exaggerated."

"Only a few of them. The rest we put out there for propaganda." He twirled her into an arc that had her laughing. When she swung back, she was flush against him and her laughter quickly stilled.

"Would you care to see the bedroom?" He waggled his eyebrows at her.

"Of course. But if it is a thorough tour, will I lose my maiden's status?"

"Not until you are free of your clan and can come to me willingly and eagerly." He wrapped his arm over her shoulders and steered her up the left staircase. There were no carpets in the home, but the smell of polished wood was everywhere. The entire house was made of granite and oak and it seemed to be made of light as well.

"The goblins that I hired to work here only work nights. Their craftsmanship is better after dark."

"Goblins? Goblins are real?" A whole new world was starting to open to her. Not just the insular world of werewolves, but she was here with a dragon and his contractor was a goblin. Life just kept getting weirder.

"Yes. Most mythical or fairytale creatures are real." The double doors to what must be the master bedroom swung open at their approach.

"That's a nice touch."

"The bedroom and the kitchen are the only finished rooms so far. I like to fly up here and look out over the mountains. The view is amazing." He steered her past the enormous bed in the centre of the room and out onto the balcony.

With the wind blowing, the sun setting and the mountains keeping them safe, he went to one knee and proposed.

"Arabel Marx, once we have freed you from the mire of you clan, will you marry me? Will you be my wife, my partner and my lover forever and ever?"

"I will see how long forever lasts for me, but Zenner-Arial-Ifical, I will marry you until my last and final day passes."

Before she could lean down to kiss him, he took her left hand and slid a ring of incredible beauty into place. "A mere trifling of the wealth at my disposal, but a rock that I dug out myself for the woman who would take my heart and hold it within hers." He stood and lifted her at the waist for a kiss. She wrapped her arms and legs around him to return the kiss and the friction as he walked was driving her out of her mind.

If sex is off the menu, why is he dropping me onto his bed?

"You know, even though I intend to save the best for our first official night together, I have been dying for a taste of you."

With only a few quick movements, her sweatshirt and bra went flying and he was working at her jeans with incredible dexterity. She was leaning back on her elbows and watching him, then looked away and blushed furiously as her jeans were removed and her underwear with them. She had no idea when her boots and socks had disappeared.

She couldn't make light of the intent look in his eyes as he stroked her shoulders, collarbone and trailed his way down to her breasts. He leaned forward and nuzzled her breasts, warming them with his breath as he moved from the left to the right. Ary brought her hands up and caressed her own flesh gently as he worked his way down her torso to rest between her thighs.

His breath heated her sensitive core, the petals of her sex opening with moisture under his intense scrutiny. The embarrassment of having her body getting slick with someone watching went out the window when she first felt the touch of his tongue.

She gripped the bedding with both fists as his mouth began to stroke her in places that her own fingers could never reach. When he licked her, she mewled and as his tongue worked into her and started to undulate. She cursed his dragon heritage.

Unlike the ones generated by her own hands, this orgasm caught her by surprise with both its suddenness and its strength. A keening cry came from her mouth as she arched her back in abandon. Zenner kept licking her until he had licked her dry. Her body was sweaty, exhausted and singing with the tune he had taught it.

She didn't know if she would be able to move again. Ary didn't know if she wanted to. "This is a good place to die. I think I will just lay here forever."

Alethea widened her eyes at the feeling of the jetting within her, and her own release continued for endless moments while she held him within her. Finally, sated, she slumped forward onto his chest.

He wrapped his arms around her and held her, one hand on her hip to stay within her. He chuckled, each movement of his chest moving her on him. And him within her.. Aftershocks rippled through her, and she twitched.

“Why are you laughing?” She mumbled it into his chest, but he understood it anyway.

“That was the fastest I have spilled myself since I was a teenager.”

“Ah. That was a first for me. I haven’t…um, before.”

He tugged her head up and kissed her. “I’m glad.”

Insecurity crept in,

“So, it was all right?” She refused to meet his eyes.

He began to laugh again. Fury swept through her. How dare he laugh at her? She pushed at him with both hands, shoving off of him, feeling him slide from within her. Her hands fisted, and she punched him in the jaw.

Seconds later, she was in the bathing chamber with the door bolted. She was shaking, part from fury, part from fear. She backed against the far wall and kept a wary eye on the door.

There was no sound from the outer room. How hard had she hit him?

Minutes crawled by as she waited, huddled in a small ball on the floor. Still no sound. She crept back to the door, slid the bolt back silently and opened it..

The bedroom was empty.

Had he left her? She walked hesitantly into the room, looking for anyplace he might be hiding.

“What are you looking for?” A whisper in her ear from right behind her.

She jumped a foot into the air. “Holy hells!”

Arms wrapped around her from behind. She fought, kicking and yelling.

“Let me go! Let me go, you bastard!”

“Bastard? Don’t let my mother hear you say that. She might take offense.” He was still naked. She could feel him rising against her back as she struggled to free herself.

He held her until she slumped against him. She started up again--less shouting, more squirming. Then relaxed. Then started again.

Finally, she was exhausted. Did she realize she didn’t want to get away from him? She could have quite easily. She only had to use her warding talents. She hadn’t even tried.

Darien watched as Brennus drew the blinds. The sun would be rising shortly. How beautiful he was. In fact, he had yet to see or imagine another man who could arouse such longing in him. It really didn’t matter what momentary pang of need he felt when he saw Marcel. It was now completely obliterated by the presence of Brennus in his room.

Darien’s eyes went to the bed then back to the tall, blond haired god standing a few feet away. “You’re sulking,” he accused. “What is it about these brooding ex Druid priests that make my cock leak?”

Brennus raised an eyebrow.

“You’re pretty cute when you do that.”

“Cute,” he muttered.

Darien grinned. “Take off your clothes. Please.”

“And that’s supposed to make everything all right?”

“No,” he said softly, “but it might just soothe this ache I have for you.” He caught his breath as Brennus undid his shirt and took it off. “That’s better. Okay,” Darien licked his lips, moving closer, “the pants.” Brennus began to unzip them but it was becoming painful. “You’re too slow,” Darien scolded. He grabbed the pants and yanked them down off Brennus’ hips. “You’re teasing, punishing me.” He went to his knees and pressed his lips to Brennus’ naked thigh, then moved his lips to his cock almost reverently.  “Don’t ever punish me that way, Brennus,” he moaned. “I don’t think I’d survive it. I’d rather you beat me than deny me your body.”

A hand moved in his hair. “How could I deny you something which is yours and yours alone, something that belongs as much to you as it does to me? I’m yours. I will be yours forever, no matter what happens, Darien.”

Darien’s tears, thick and rich with blood drained down his cheeks, staining the shaft of Brennus’ cock. Darien licked up the length of his cock before taking it into his mouth.

Brennus pressed his head back, and drove his cock deeper into Darien’s throat.

With inhuman speed the vampire grabbed her by the shoulders and pressed his lips to hers. Startled, her mouth opened and his tongue surged in. He turned his head, angling his mouth to cover hers, then thoroughly and expertly kissed her with long slow swipes of his tongue.

Without thought, she kissed him back, her tongue moving against his, exploring his mouth. He tasted of darkness and shadows, but it was surprisingly warm and wet. He doesn’t taste dead. Her body clenched in sudden and voracious carnal response. He’s a very good kisser. Rowan let out a small sound. Her hands fisted in his coat and her eyes fluttered closed. His arm closed around her waist, pulling her tightly against him.

She felt a small, sharp prick. She’d jabbed herself on one of his teeth. The taste of sweet copper bloomed. Uh, oh. She felt herself lifted from her feet and he sucked at the small burning wound on her tongue. He seemed to be getting warmer.

He broke the kiss and stared at her from barely an inch away. “Damn, I haven’t fed this well in years.” His eyes were pools of fire surrounded by thin rings of beaten copper. A tiny smear of blood escaped the corner of his mouth. He chased after it with his tongue.

I don’t feel like part of my soul has been sucked out, or even dented. Rowan frowned. “It was only a scratch. You barely had any.”

“Apparently your quintessence is super charged. I only needed a little.” He grinned, showing the sharp points of his teeth. “I won’t need to feed again for a few days.”

Rowan glared at him. “What the hell was that kiss for anyway?”

“I swore not to harm you.” He grinned. “I never said I wouldn’t seduce you.”

“What?” Her mouth fell open.

“I have a few hours before I have to go.” He let her slide down his body, then pressed her back against the car.

She could feel the firm strength of his body and the rigid length of an impressive erection letting her know, in no uncertain terms, that he was more than interested in something other than food. His hips swiveled against hers with a slow, suggestive roll. Her panties became embarrassingly moist.

“I’ll make it good, I promise.” He licked his reddened lips and smiled.

“Your gift is responding to me.”

Keiko shook her head and jerked at his coat. “What gift? It doesn’t do anything except let ghosts…hurt me.” Her gaze dropped to his coat, and she frowned. The coat seemed to be darkening right under her hands and becoming…black with red trim, and the buttons looked more gold than silver.

He pulled his palm from her belly to catch her chin, drawing her gaze to his. “You have the power to make the dead live and feel again. For a short time, anyway.” He released her chin, and set his palm back on her belly. “And it lives here. This is what those…creatures were after.” He looked into her eyes. “They wanted to feel alive.

Keiko frowned in confusion. “By biting me?”

He scowled. “They terrified you to make the gift spill into your blood. They bit you so they could drink your power straight from your veins.”

Clutching his coat, she shivered hard. “Like vampires?”

He snorted. “Without doubt. Vampires are supposed to be blood-drinking ghosts.”

She looked up into his eyes. “Is that what you want from me? To drink my power?”

His smile vanished, and an aching hunger filled his midnight gaze. He licked his lips. “Yes.”

His Eminence, the Scion of the Eruditus University strode down the narrow hallway with Elise in his wake. He turned and smiled, his striking sea green eyes crinkling only the tiniest amount at the corners under his arched golden brows. “Luke is a fully trained Peregrine Knight from the pilot’s guild. He will be able to help you with your…problem.”

Elise winced under his devastating smile. Mother of Mercy, she hoped somebody could help her. She tugged her hand from her pocket, lifting a finger to curl it around one of the uneven locks of the unseemly bright red hair brushing at her chin.

Someone had once said, what goes up, must come down. Well, not in her case. That was the problem.

Small lights glowed along the upper edges of the walls, casting a gentle golden wash across the hallway’s peaked, plaster and oak-beamed ceiling. The Scion’s flowing cobalt blue and opalescent white teaching-master’s robes seemed to glow under the sparse lighting. His slippers made no sound on the smooth floor.

In complete contrast, Elise’s serviceable ankle-boots thunked loudly and clumsily on the stone flags. She swept her palms across the soft gray canvas of her coveralls, then stuffed her hands in her pockets. Next to the Scion’s silk-robed elegance she felt like a complete drab, but her simple moss-green short-sleeved top and coveralls were comfortable, and very practical for her work.

The silk robes the Scion wore didn’t appear to be all that comfortable, or have any practical use whatsoever, but they were lovely to look at.

He was lovely to look at; broad shoulders, nice hands, gorgeous green eyes. His long pale gold mane was pulled back in a snug and precisely trimmed tail that fell down to the center of his back.

She rolled her eyes. The women were probably throwing themselves at him.

“Ah, here we are…” The Scion stopped at a tall, heavily carved door of dense black Emeriti oak. He pushed it open.

Elise ducked through the door to avoid another of the Scion’s lethal smiles. He really needed to point that smile at someone else. All that blinding masculinity was completely wasted on her. She was engaged.

Elise blinked and squinted. After the brightness of the well-lit hallway, the stone-walled chamber was dark. The heavy black velvet curtains were drawn tight across the entire row of gothic arched windows on the facing wall. Only one lamp was lit, in the very far right corner

A man stood in the center of the shadowed chamber with his back to the door. His bone pale hand, resting on the back of the chair he stood beside, seemed bright in the room’s darkness. His snug black throat-to-wrist ship-suit made him near invisible, though the fabric shimmered with midnight rainbows. His knee-high boots gleamed a highly polished black.

The Scion lifted his chin. “Guild Pilot Luke, this is the young woman I spoke to you about.”

The man in the room’s center turned his head slightly showing pale cheek. Light caught in the sun-tinted bronze hair falling about his shoulders in a tumble of unruly waves.

Elise frowned. She’d expected a dark sorcerer to be a bit more…intimidating. He wasn’t particularly tall; the Scion had to be a full head taller. His shoulders were fairly broad and his waist narrow, but he clearly wasn’t as heavily muscular as some of the foresters she worked with. She nibbled on her bottom lip. He just didn’t look...evil.

The Scion cleared his throat. “Guild pilot?”

Luke’s pale fingers dug into the chair’s arched back. “Leave her and get out.”

Huh? Elise blinked.

The Scion’s gaze narrowed. “You’ll have to forgive him. He can be a little…direct.”

No kidding. Elise felt a smile lift her lips. That was pretty direct.

Luke turned to face the chamber door, moving behind the chair. His face was fine-boned and rather nice-looking, but not screamingly masculine, like the Scion. His eyes seemed huge; the color of summer skies, framed with long dark gold lashes. His pale mouth was set in a tight line, but color pinked his cheeks. His gaze narrowed on the Scion. “I said, get out!”

Elise rocked back on her heels. That wasn’t direct. Luke was seriously pissed off. Something definitely wasn’t right. She turned and offered the Scion a friendly smile. “Why don’t you go? I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

Luke choked out a sour laugh. “Oh, you are perfectly safe with me.” His gaze razed the Scion, and then Elise, and then slid away. “The school-master has me collared and leashed. I can’t lay a finger on you.” One hand fisted on the back of the chair. “Not even if my life depended on it.”

"Harder, Brandon baby, harder."

The red-headed woman bent lower over his desk and wiggled her butt at him. If he'd had any doubt the color of her hair was natural, he didn't any longer. Not after she'd dropped her clothes showing him she was ready, willing, and oh-so-incredibly able. Still, he'd bet her hair color was one of the few remaining natural parts of her body.

"Love to, uh…" What the hell is her name again? He growled at his inability to remember his plaything's name. Wendy? Wanda? Wilma? An image of the cartoon Flintstone wife popped into his mind as he thrust into her wetness. Nah, none of those. Does her name start with a T? He groaned as he clutched her buttocks and squeezed them, making good use of what little ass the woman had. The phrase "baby's got back" would never apply to this woman.

"I'm going to the doctor for lipo on my butt cheeks. Next time, you won't have to put up with such a big rear end." She twisted around to look at Brandon and ran her tongue over her upper lip. "I'm such a fat pig right now, but I won't be for long. I promise you."

Like he planned on seeing her again? He returned her smile because he knew she wanted him to. Fat pig? Hell, he was lucky her bones didn't stab him in the crotch. Why had he allowed her to pick him up this morning outside his hotel suite? Was he rewarding her for breaking through his tight security? Sometimes living in the most exclusive hotel in Chicago had its disadvantages.

Partly to keep from climaxing, and partly out of frustration, he shoved away from her. However, she took his action as a sign he wanted something else to satisfy him. Moving with the grace of the high fashion model she was, she swiveled around as if dancing a pirouette, sank to her knees, and grabbed his throbbing penis. "Let's play White House, okay?" Before he could answer, she had him in her mouth and his retort was forgotten.

Naked from the waist down, he spread his legs to keep steady as she took slow drags up and down his cock. He tunneled his fingers through her hair, holding her head to him, and closed his eyes. Reconsidering, he had to admit it. Sometimes living in the most exclusive hotel in Chicago did have its advantages.

As what's-her-name sucked on his shaft, he plunged deeper into her mouth, urging her to try and take all of him inside. If she could, she'd be the first to make the entire plunge. But unfortunately, she, like all the rest, failed. Her gagging sound had him looking down at the top of her head and stepping away. Or as far away as he could with her still hanging onto his johnson. "Shit, I'm sorry. Sometimes I forget."

With the music playing soft strains of an Alicia Keys ballad, Mel bathed her body and pretended to be a queen preparing to meet her king. She ran the soap over her body, paused to play with herself, then finished soaping her legs. Once she was satisfied her skin was smooth, she stood and stepped out of the tub, carefully keeping her gaze away from the mirror. No need to spoil my mood with a grim sight of reality. Instead, she toweled down her body, closing her eyes to imagine Derrick doing the drying. Once dried, she pulled the new negligee from one of the bags and held it up for inspection. Ignoring the sizing information on the tag, she quickly slid into the sleepwear and fluffed her hair. Yeah, right. Like anyone ever slept in a nightie like this.

“Okay, Derrick. Time to come home and play.” She sidestepped the bags and clothing on the floor, drew her body to her full height and adjusted her girls. “Tonight’s the night, ladies. We are giving our man the time of his life. When I get through with him, he’ll beg me to marry him.”

With what she hoped was an alluring smile on her lips, she turned and started down the hall toward the bedroom. Her heart pounded with anticipation, making her hurry. Should she light the candles now? Or wait until she heard him at the front door?

An odd sound brought her up short, dropping her hand away from the bedroom doorknob. She remained motionless, waiting to hear the sound again and didn’t have long to wait. A second giggle drifted from inside the room.

What the hell? Does Derrick have a girl in our bedroom? Although they’d agreed on an open relationship, they’d had an understanding that none of those outside flings could move inside their apartment. No one, other than themselves, would ever touch the silk sheets on their bed. Would Derrick break our agreement? And if so, is this the first time? Or has he broken it before?

She took a deep breath and tried to find another conclusion. Maybe it’s the television? No. We don’t have a television in the bedroom. Maybe he has the radio on? He loves having music playing in the bedroom. But why did I hear a giggle? Could the voice be that of the radio show’s host? She bit her lip, trying to make the excuse work and failed. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t believe the lie.

Tears sprang to her eyes, but she managed to pull herself together and wipe them away before they took control. Holding her head high, she placed her hand on the knob and turned it. The door swung open easily, making no sound.

I wonder why I didn’t hear both of them?

A cold anger swept through her body as she stood in the doorway, staring at the scene on the bed—their bed. Derrick braced his body on his knees with a woman’s legs wrapped around his waist. That woman lay on her back as he pounded into her while a second woman balanced on her knees in front of him, straddling the first woman’s head. Whore Number One’s tiny breasts bounced with the rhythm of his thrusts while she held onto the legs of Whore Number Two. Whore Number Two held onto the headboard of the bed with one hand, her eyes closed as Derrick fondled her breasts and growled encouragements to Whore Number One. WNO had her face pressed to WNT’s mound as though she’d never come up for air.

Although Mel knew Derrick played around, she wasn’t ready for this. Sure, she’d joined in on a few threesomes with Derrick before, but never at home. And never on the night she’d planned to propose. Something deep inside her broke apart and she knew she would never get involved in an orgy again. She was past all the swinging and she wanted more. More from her life and more from Derrick.

“Hey, sugar, were you expecting another player to the party?”

Kat stayed in the bedroom after Colin left, putting away her clothes and toiletries.  In truth, however, she spent most of the time trying to calm her jangled nerves.  Colin’s brothers were nothing like she’d imagined.  Granted they were all very handsome men under their roughness and pitiful grooming, but she’d assumed they’d be more like Colin.  Charming, funny, and socialized for human interaction.  Sure, she’d known they lacked skills with the opposite sex, but preparing them for a long-term relationship was going to prove more difficult than she’d ever imagined.  Talk about changing sows’ ears into silk purses!  She’d have a better chance at changing maggots into world-class show dogs.

Sighing, she stood up, smoothed her clothes and started for the door.  Reminding herself to be polite, firm, and the epitome of a lady, she opened the door, ready to start her challenge. 

A hand gripped her by the arm and thrust her forward into the hallway.  Hoots and cat calls assailed her ears as more hands poked and prodded her body. 

“Hey, baby, time to share you with the rest of the family.”

“Nice rack, huh, guys?”

More rude descriptions of her body followed, but Kat barely heard them.  Shocked, she struggled to stay upright between the two lines of men.  She pushed back, hoping to get away, but the force sent her falling against the other side.  A circle formed around her, blocking her escape.

“Let go!  Stop touching me!”

She beat against Jack’s chest, causing no damage or reaction.  Instead, he drew her to him, bringing his mouth down on hers.  His tongue raked her mouth as she fought against him.  Panic ripped through her and she tried to scream, but his mouth muffled the sound. 

“Hey, little brother, pass her on.  Everyone gets a chance to kiss the bride.”

They shuffled her, brother after brother, each taking his turn to kiss her.  Still fighting, she managed to tear away from Luke’s grip and yell for help.  James yanked her to him and took her mouth with his. 

This time, however, she was ready.

"Johnny, please."

Christine arched her body higher, using her legs to push her hips up as his tongue whipped over her pulsing nub time and time again. Her breath quickened as his hands slid higher, kneading her breasts while his thumbs played on her nipples. "Eat me harder, Johnny."

He obeyed her command, sucking the juices from her snatch. Even the sound of him devouring her sent another shockwave of release coursing through her body.

The man never stopped. How could he keep his mouth on her so long? Christine absently wondered at his stamina and smiled. Who cared? As long as he kept biting and sucking, she wouldn't complain.

"Oh, Johnny. I don't know if I can take much more." She lifted her head to glance at him and caught the corners of his mouth barely visible above her curly hair. He answered her by intensifying his hold on her, making her body shake with his attack.

At last he let go of her, rising above her to stare into her eyes. "I've missed you, baby, so much."

"I missed you, too, Johnny."

A buzzing sound startled her, but she vowed to ignore it. Nothing would get in the way of being with Johnny. Not tonight. Tonight would be the night they made it. Tonight he'd stay.

Her hands slid up his arms positioned on either side of her and came to rest on his mountainous shoulders. "I'm so glad you're home." Yet, even as she said the words, his face wavered.

Stunned, she stared at him as he grew less solid, more transparent with every second. "No! Johnny, don't leave." Her hands fell through his shoulders and she grasped air where once his arms had been.

The insistent buzzing grew louder as Johnny disappeared.

"No! Johnny, don't go!" She woke with a start and sat up, panting as her heart threatened to beat out of her chest. She glanced around at the bedroom, the bedroom she'd shared with her husband--her deceased husband--and stared at the closed window. The morning sun cascaded through the glass, warming the thin blanket she clutched to her breast, yet she felt nothing but the cold ache of loneliness.

Again. She'd had the dream again. And as in previous times, she'd awakened and lost her Johnny.

"Damn!" Grief mixed with anger as she threw the pillow at the buzzing alarm clock, knocking it off the nightstand. Reaching to the other pillow, she took the picture of Johnny lying on top, held it tightly against her chest and sobbed.

The naked man, holding a curved sword in each hand, pirouetted on one foot, then leapt, slicing the swords through the air around him, bringing them close to his body while spinning the blades. He landed softly on his feet. His dexterity was both beautiful and frightening to watch.

As he was frightening in his beauty.

A thick braid of golden hair swished across his tight buttocks as he swung around, going into a crouch, his swords at right angles to his body. Again, he balanced on one foot, holding the position as motionless as a statue, his muscles bunched, his cinnamon-hued skin glistening with a fine sheen of perspiration. Blue light, emanating from the sword blades, coruscated around him.

He turned to look at her, his black eyes captivating. His smile hinted of a man's pride and she knew that his prowess was not confined to sword-dancing. In that moment, desire swept away any caution.

She longed to touch him, ached to have him inside her.

He spun around, as agile as a dancer, his swords cutting the air around his body in rhythms too fast for the eye to follow.

Again, he paused to regard her. He made an elaborate bow, his sword tips pointing to her. He lifted his head and smiled.

Heat raced from her head to her toes. "I want you," she whispered.

* * * *

Lauren started awake, her body hot and moist, aching with need.

Disoriented, she blinked and shook her head, finding that she was kneeling on the rug she had bought that morning at the flea market. Why was that memory sharp and clear, but everything else muddled?

Gradually, her breathing returned to normal, but she still trembled.

She glanced up across the paddock, seeing the sun lowering in the sky. It was almost dusk.

Somehow, she had lost two hours--one moment she had been unrolling the rug over the verandah floor, then…the hallucination: the man dancing with the swords.

They made their way past Anne as if she wasn't even there, moving to the bed. The sun was on its way down, descending rapidly as afternoon turned to dusk. Warmth gave way to a chilled sea breeze, but the two lovers didn't seem to notice.

Anne watched with open curiosity as Shawn set Lynette down on the bed. She edged her way toward the pillow with her elbows. Her smile was bright and teasing as she reached the pillow and settled back, beckoning for her husband to join her.

Shawn knelt on the bed, inching forward before dropping a hand on either side of Lynette's hips.  Their lips met in a passionate kiss. Anne gasped when they made contact and a chill danced down her spine. It was as if she were in the midst of their embrace-feeling both sides of the excitement-the electricity of their joy.

Shawn's lips were rough to Lynette's smooth-the contrasts continued. The wife's gloved fingers graced a cheek already marred with whiskers. His jaw tightened at the contact as he shifted his weight to the side-a motion that made Anne lose her balance and lean against the wall. It was as if two entities had come to reside in her body and the sensation was absolutely overwhelming.

Minutes passed as the two teased each other with tiny licks and kisses. They escalated to gasp-filled open mouth affairs, tongues mingling amidst audible breaths and inarticulate desperation. Anne felt warmth fill her body in a way that she only ever experienced before feeding.  These two beings, alive, dead or otherwise, were providing her with more emotional nourishment than she had ever received at the hands of a lover.

Something snapped. Shawn began to clumsily work at Lynette's garment. Anne could feel his starvation to feel her bare skin-to explore the entirety of her body with thoughts that might have made the vampire blush had she not experienced them so many times before.

As they continued to climb higher, the air began to thin and the trail narrowed, forcing the heaving horses to walk single file. When they finally reached the level plateau at the top, Garth stopped and waited for Kayla to draw abreast of him.

“We’ll turn off here,” he told her. “There’s a good place to camp for the night on the other side of this ridge.”

Out of breath from the climb, Kayla could only nod as she used her legs to urge Hawk onto the new trail behind the mare.

The red sun was just beginning to slip below the tree-lined horizon when the path suddenly opened into a clearing.

Hawk’s steps slowed and he would’ve stopped, but Kayla urged him on. Keeping her eyes on the high cliffs that surrounded the meadow, she cautiously scanned the rough walls for any sign that something might be lurking in their shadows.

“Don’t worry, water dragons prefer the deep, quiet waters of a lake,” Garth assured her, indicating with a nod of his head the small waterfall cascading from the rocky heights of the cliffs into a sparkling pool at its base. “The mountain streams and pools are too cold and shallow for them.”

Drawing the mare to a halt, he dismounted and waited for Kayla to drop to the ground beside her mount. “I’m going to make camp under those fir trees. Why don’t you go for a swim and get cleaned up before it gets too dark,” he told her with a meaningful look at her mud-caked form.

“That sounds like a great idea.” With more bravado than she felt, for she was very conscious of the way she must look covered in grime and wearing such scanty clothes, Kayla threw her saddlebags over one shoulder and quickly unsaddled Hawk so that he could graze with the black mare.

Finding a large, flat rock to sit on beside the pool, Kayla rummaged through her bags. She was relieved, and still puzzled, that most of her things had survived the rough trip from the orange grove. Unfortunately, one of the items that had not survived had been her spare jeans. Made partly of man-made material, they had disintegrated into mere scraps of rotted material.

Shrugging her shoulders in resignation, Kayla leaned back against a large slab of stone and removed her muddy boots and, hesitating for only a moment, she peeled off all of her filthy clothes and tossed them into a nearby water-filled stone hollow to soak.

“Well, here’s hoping that lake monsters really don’t live in the mountains,” she mumbled to herself nervously as she grabbed her bar of soap. Climbing to the top of a large boulder at the edge of the pool, she dove into the clear, green water.

Swimming under the surface, she emerged in the shallows to stand waist deep in the sun-warmed water where she vigorously and thoroughly soaped her hair and body, determined to remove the stench of dried blood and muck clinging to her.

Feeling much too tired and sluggish to dwell on the day’s strange events, Kayla rolled over and floated on her back, basking in the simple pleasure of having clean skin again. As her mind cleared and she was able to think back on the day, she was only mildly surprised that, in spite of the danger she’d encountered, she felt no particular desire to return to what was already beginning to feel like someone else’s life, or perhaps a faraway dream.

Diving to rinse the rest of the soap from her hair, Kayla chased a school of small fish along the bottom until she needed to surface to breathe. Rising, she stood and shook her long, pale mass of hair back and wiped the water from her eyes. She was studying the odd pattern of colors in the walls of stone enclosing the meadow when her gaze fell on Garth, standing naked on the same boulder she had used, preparing to enter the water.

Entranced, she stared at the beauty of his heavily muscled body, the skin dark with an all-over suntan as he prepared to dive into the water. He broke the spell when he leapt from the rock, arching into the water where he cleaved the surface so cleanly that he barely made a splash.

Suddenly remembering her own nakedness, Kayla splashed into the deeper water uttering a small shriek at its coldness.

Garth erupted from the water in front of her, his deep brown eyes brimming with laughter. “Hey, where are you going? You don’t have to leave on my account.”

“I thought you were making camp!” Uneasily, she back-paddled away from him, her arms folded protectively to hide her breasts from his gaze.

“Now, how can you swim with your arms up like that?” he laughed. His hand darted under the water and snagged one of her feet, jerking her under.

Kayla broke the surface sputtering, modesty completely forgotten as her temper flared hotly at being dunked. Taking a deep breath, she dove to the sandy bottom and used it to propel herself back to the surface. She emerged only inches from Garth’s body, bringing a tidal wave of water with her to surge over his smiling face.

Bobbing about, laughing hysterically at her prank, Kayla managed to swallow a mouthful of water and began to choke.

Wiping the water from his face with a rueful grin, Garth reached for her and slapped none too gently on her back to clear the water from her lungs.

Still hiccupping with laughter, Kayla allowed herself to remain in his arms as he held her close against his bare chest, still patting her back.

“Were you planning to drink all of the water, or are you finished now?” he laughed at her. Bending his head, he gently nuzzled her neck and kissed her small ear.

Full awareness of her compromising position striking her, Kayla stiffened in his embrace and tried to push away from him. In spite of her innocence, she knew that she had let things go too far already.

“No! We cannot do this!” She struggled desperately to escape his powerful grip. “You don’t understand,” she moaned. “Stop!”

“Don’t be afraid, little one. I won’t hurt you.” Garth held onto her firmly, continuing to cover her neck and face with kisses as he moved them into shallower water. Feeling her struggles easing, he held her more gently and claimed her mouth with his to silence her weak protests.

Kayla allowed her fears to be appeased and gave into the feelings that had assailed her from their first meeting. She could feel the firm muscles of his body as he crushed her against him. His kisses were so unlike what she expected, she thought irreverently as his probing tongue ignited a fire deep within her.

Moving her body against his, she could feel the fully aroused maleness of him pressed to her soft belly. She returned his kisses with a fevered passion that was new to her and brought her small hands to caress lightly the bulging muscles of his biceps.

Garth lavished her firm breasts with kisses and took her nipple in his mouth, sucking gently until it felt so hard. She thought that surely the skin would burst. He closed his teeth on the swollen tenderness of the nipple and felt her body go rigid.

Kayla threw her head back, moaning in pain and pleasure. “Oh please, I don’t think I can bear it any longer,” she gasped as he brought an expert hand between her legs and touched the center of her being, tormenting her until she begged some more, “Please, Garth, please.”

Lisette smiled at him again. Twirling a gemlike strand of topaz hair around the length of one white and slender finger, she turned her head slightly away from him in an ages-old posture of coyness and sudden shyness. And with the other hand, as he watched, she reached for him. Reached to touch him with the equally slender and sensual fingers of that hand. Reached to catch the collar of his light summer shirt and tug a little upon it as she slipped seeking fingers beneath the edge of it. Against the startled skin beneath the edge of it.

He bit back a cry. Of agony and anticipation. Of excitement at the amount of passion Lisette aroused, the kind she could arouse even with such a slight brushing of fingers across skin that prickled suddenly. Skin that began to tingle as if someone pressed a low-voltage electrical wire, the very tiniest live electrical wire, against it for a hundredth of a thousandth of an instant.

Seizing his new chance, Gar stroked her hair again. The way he'd stroked it before. Almost as if in afterthought. He allowed his fingertips to drift aimlessly, idly, through sun-drenched strands of verging-on-platinum silk to find their ends. To twist them exactly as she had. Delighting in the strong silk, the prickle-tickle of the ends, the smooth sweetness of scent that wafted from it when he stroked. When he deepened his stroking to take in more of the roots now than the ends.

Lisette dropped her hands to her sides. She returned to the attitude of impatient breathlessness that he'd found so enticing before…so utterly, unequivocally charming. Making no effort now to sway toward him, she leaned back against the rough-barked tree that made such a startling contrast to the alabaster-smoothness of her face, her hair, her voluptuously carved and sleek body. Pressing herself tightly back against its roughness, she seemed incapable of swaying again. In any way.

She seemed to lose much of her definition. Seemed to tell him she was ready.

Cupping her face in his hands, Gar stopped long enough to take in its loveliness. Long enough to gaze down into eyes that gleamed duskier now, smoky rather than brilliant emerald, liquid rather than any solid, definite thing of the real, the outside, world.

So it was he who leaned forward. Toward her. He who moved to kiss her as he had before. Dwelling on her cheek, lingering there until she caught her breath in a sharp and startled gasp. And then at once he moved on. Very quickly and steadily moved toward lips she turned up to him…up for his convenience and ease. Lips, he saw, that were swollen. Rounded far beyond their usual pouty ripeness. Lips that invited as much with their raspberry-apple richness as with their pressed, taut, waiting position. Lips that invited even more than the shuddering heave of breath that shook her entire body, or the distinct prick of engorged nipples against the inside of her thin scarlet blouse, or the way her eyes began to slip shut. Slowly at first and then faster, faster, faster as the shuddering quality of her shaken breathing increased.

Gar made sure he caressed her face with a rain of kisses at the same time that he caressed her body, every sweet-succulent curve of her body, with his hands. And then, moving closer still, with a sway of his hips and everything associated with his hips.